


Content

by AutisticWriter



Category: Vicious (TV)
Genre: Angst, Burns, Canon Gay Relationship, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Minor Injuries, One Shot, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 01:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9268202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: It has been a week since his mother died, and Stuart's grief is affecting him in strange ways. But Freddie will always be there for him.





	

Stuart is rudely awoken by Freddie at the hideously early time of nine AM, as he stomps through the bedroom, slams the bathroom door and runs the taps so hard it's a wonder the porcelain doesn't crack. He groans, and rolls over, pulling the thin bed sheets over his head. He rubs his eyes, and the cool metal of his wedding ring touches his eyelid. A smile crosses his face.

It has been a week since he and Freddie finally got married, and he can honestly say that nothing has changed. He still says horrible things to Freddie, and Freddie still bullies him. But that's just how things are; and he wouldn't want to change it.

He listens as Freddie potters around the bathroom; Stuart knows Freddie's morning routine off by heart. First, he goes to the toilet, smashing the toilet seat against the cistern, and then he shaves, using his cutthroat razor. Freddie won't admit that his razor is dangerous, and much harder to use than the newer safety razor. He's very much stuck in the past.

At some point, Stuart must fall back asleep, because the next thing he knows, Freddie is lying beside him, smelling strongly of toothpaste and aftershave. Freddie snuggles down beside him so they are spooning each other, and kisses his ear. Stuart wriggles free of Freddie's grip, and sits up in bed, shuddering.

"Will you leave me alone, you pervert," Stuart says, but he's smiling. Freddie sits up, pretending to look offended, but Stuart can see through it. He knows him too well.

"Well, I apologise for actually trying to touch you. I'll just go and vomit now," Freddie gets out of bed, but comes back seconds later, holding two cups of tea. Stuart takes his cup, and takes a sip. The tea is very hot, and he has to blow on it.

He doesn't say thank you, but he squeezes Freddie's hand. That's enough.

"You're welcome," Freddie smiles, squeezing his hand back.

Stuart yawns, and leans his head back against the headboard, resting the boiling hot cup of tea on his lap. He's just so tired; it's like he ever went to sleep. He lets his eyes drift shut . . . and then his legs are burning and he screams.

"Shit, Stuart! You idiot!" Freddie yells, throwing back the sodden sheets and taking the now empty cup from Stuart's shaking hands. His pyjama bottoms are wet, their once cream fabric now stained brown, and his legs burn, like when he touched the inside of the oven and burned his hand.

"Don't just sit there," Freddie says, getting out of bed. "I'll run you a cold bath - get undressed."

Freddie rushes into the bathroom, and Stuart tries to get his head around what happened. Although it shouldn't have come as such a surprise; he has been getting rather clumsy this past week. Freddie thinks it's his body reacting strangely to his grief-

"Shit," He whispers, and he remembers everything. The incident at the wedding, breaking down that evening, and the fact that he just randomly keeps bursting into tears at random moments. Like now. He gulps, and his eyes fill with tears. This is the worst feeling though - that awful situation where he forgets that his mother died, and then suddenly remembering, and the grief hitting him all at once.

Stuart gets out of bed, trying to distract himself, lest he start crying. He kicks off his wet trousers, even though they are sticking to his scalded skin, and stumbles across the room wearing just his boxers and pyjama shirt. The is a huge red mark on both of his legs, the skin throbbing and swollen and reddening by the minute.

Freddie turns off the tap, and pokes his head out of the bathroom. "Come on, come on, I've got your bath r- are you crying? Does it really hurt that much? If it does, you probably should go to hospital."

"It's not that," Stuart sniffs, shaking his head. He reaches the bathroom, and Freddie leads him over to the bath. His legs to hurt like hell, but that's not why he is now trying not to cry.

Stuart sits on the edge of the bathtub, struggling with the buttons on his pyjama top.

"Don't worry about that, " Freddie says, his eyebrows raised. " Just get in."

"Alright, alright," Stuart says, defensively. When he is upset, he always takes Freddie's aggressive nature personally. He spins himself around, and eases his sore, aching body into the tub of freezing water. He hisses, and immediately begins to shiver. But the relief on his burned skin feels so good and the hiss becomes a sigh.

Freddie leans against the sink, his arms folded across his chest. "What's upset you?" He says, out of the blue.

Stuart's tears spill over, and he splashes his face with water to hide it. "Nothing," He says, maybe a bit too aggressively.

"Really?" Freddie's eyebrows are raised again.

Stuart nods. He leans backwards, and the taps dig into his back. But he doesn't care.

"Are you sure, because I think you've just remembered about your mother and have got upset again."

Stuart scowls. How does Freddie know him so well - it's infuriating. "No, that's not it at all . . ." Stuart says defiantly, but his voice trembles, his face crumples, and he begins to sob. "It's just so hard, Freddie," He wails, rubbing his eyes hard with his fists, humiliated.

"I know," Freddie comes over, sitting down on the edge of the bath. "I know."

His chest is tight, his eyes burning as much as his sore legs as tears cascade down his cheeks. His head hurts too, like it might split open any moment, and he can feel his face and even his ears flushing. Stuart covers his eyes, the sobs hurting his throat.

He hears a scuffle and a splash, and when he opens his eyes, Freddie is sat at the other end of the bathtub, wincing. "Bloody hell, it's cold in here."

That makes him smile. "May I ask why you're in the bath with me?" He says. His voice is shaking and hoarse, but he feels a little better.

"Maybe I just felt like a freezing bath with my husband at ten o'clock in the morning." Freddie says, like this is perfectly normal. His face softens, and he holds his arms out. "Come here,"

Stuart sniffs, wiping his nose. "What?"

"I want to give you a cuddle," Freddie says. Stuart realises that Freddie is dressed in his pyjama top and underpants too. He must be trying to not make Stuart feel self conscious. He smiles through his tears.

"Alright," Stuart shifts awkwardly in the tub so he has his back to Freddie, and then shuffles backwards. This pulls on his burned skin, and he winces. Gritting his teeth, Stuart backs up until he's sitting between Freddie's legs, and leans back against him.

Freddie rests his chin on top of Stuart's head, and wraps his arms around his chest. Stuart sighs; he's so close he can feel Freddie shivering. Neither of them speak for a long time, so long that the water turns lukewarm and Stuart's tears dry up. Eventually, Freddie speaks.

"How do your legs feel?"

"Oh, they're alright now," Stuart says. They're sore and stinging, but the searing pain has gone.

"Do you want to get out now?"

Stuart shakes his head. "No, I think I'd like to stay here."

He feels Freddie smile. "Me too."


End file.
